Sweetly-Spoken Lies
by thedooblydoo
Summary: After her hand in marriage is gambled away to an abusive man by her poor and gambling-addicted father, Belle runs away and has a one-night stand with Mr. Gold, the owner of the local pawnshop who shows her compassion. She believes that the one night is all she will ever have, until she finds out she is pregnant. And even worse, her abusive husband is not the father. Over 18 only.
1. Chapter 1

Belle French looked up as Ruby, her fellow waitress, plonked down onto a barstool, her head perched on her hands and a mischievous look in her eyes. Belle continued wiping down the bar, not wanting to attract the disapproval of the matronly head of the diner. Granny may look like a grandmother out of a fairytale, but she had a sharp tongue and a glare to match it.

"What are you doing tonight?" Ruby asked, swirling her index finger idly in the drying streaks left by Belle's washcloth. She huffed and wiped the counter spotless again, trying to avoid answering Ruby's question.

 _Going home and hoping my father isn't too drunk already._ "Go home, throw some food together and finish my book." Belle said, watching as a look of disappointment crossed Ruby's face. Belle could feel Granny's eyes on her, and before Ruby could try to force her to go out, Granny yelled.

"Ruby, you're not going anywhere tonight. We have five guests to take care of, and if you don't get to work, I'm going to leave them all for you!" Belle breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Belle didn't have any extra cash to go out, and Granny's interruption ensured that Ruby wouldn't pry too deeply. "Belle, if you're done, you can go home."

"Thank you, Granny." Belle ducked into the break room, quickly unknotting her apron and tossing it onto the hook. She was so lost in her thoughts about where she would hide her tip money – a whopping 50 dollars – that she didn't hear Granny come up behind her. Belle jumped when the woman tapped her on the shoulder.

Granny pressed a grease-spotted paper bag into her hands. "Granny, I can't…"

"You'll take it if I say you take it." Granny insisted. A look of pity crossed the older woman's face, and Belle felt a flash of anger rise up in her gut. Moe French was well known around town as a drunkard and a gambler, and Belle had lived with people's pity all her life; she didn't need any from her employer. "You were skin and bones when you started here, and I can't very well let you continue that way. Understood?" Belle nodded weakly, mortified. She hated that her home life was spread all over town like the plague, coming to devour their children and demolish their homes. She hated the whispers she could hear following her down the street, whispers filled with equal parts pity and disgust. Echoes of saccharine-sweet social workers and clingy teachers filled her mind, and Belle smiled like she was trained to.

"Thank you." Belle tucked the bag into her satchel, and Granny smiled before going back out to the front. Belle could hear discordant strains of an argument floating through the open kitchen door, and made her way out the back exit. She had been in the middle of too many of Granny and Ruby's arguments, and had no desire to be pulled into another.

Belle pulled her thin coat tighter around her small body as a biting wind ripped through the alley, and quickened her steps. She had paid the heating bill just last week, meticulously scraping together whatever money her father hadn't managed to sniff out and promptly hand over. Thankfully, she had gotten their heating turned back on for a month, and she could stop worrying that they were going to freeze, at least temporarily.

As she passed the pawnshop, Belle couldn't stop her eyes from looking in, admiring the row of novels positioned right by the window. Her numb fingers reached for the door handle – surely it couldn't hurt to look, right?

 _No_. They were barely scraping by as it was. There was no way she would ever be able to afford anything in that shop. Belle tucked her fingers back into her coat pockets and hastened away, all the while filled with a longing to turn around and just look for another fleeting moment. However, it would do her no good to dwell on dreams of comfort that she could never have and Belle determined to be content with the few worn novels she did have left.

Belle hit the front door and was immediately confronted with the smell of smoke and beer, and heard raucous laughter come from the living room. _Great._ Her father had his gambling friends over. She slipped her tip money into one of the books sitting on the table by the door and slunk into the kitchen, hoping she could get food and go upstairs without being noticed.

"Bells!"

 _Of course._ "Yes, Dad?" Belle called from the kitchen, pushing aside beer after beer in the fridge to make room for the bag Granny had sent home with her. Hopefully, if her father didn't find her tip money, she could go grocery shopping tomorrow. Sure enough, she could already hear shuffling, things being lifted up and set back down with a thud. _Please don't touch my books._ The kitchen door swung open, and the sour scent of beer filled the room.

"That's just what I like to see – a woman on her knees."

Belle jumped to her feet, shutting the refrigerator door with a quiet _click_. A tall, muscular, conventionally attractive man stood in the doorway, leaning arrogantly against the frame. His eyes swept up and down her form, lingering with some eagerness on her breasts, and she wished she had kept her coat on. Everything, from the gold watch she could see gleaming on his wrist to the way he carried himself, screamed power and wealth. It would do neither her nor her father any good to make him angry. With some reluctance, Belle bit down the revulsion and the snappy replies, and said, "I'm sorry, you scared me. Who are you?"

Her dad chose that moment to stumble in. "Ah, Belle, I see you've met Gary Prince." He clapped Gary on the shoulder and smiled widely, but Belle wasn't fooled. She could see the desperation in her dad's eyes, and the predatory gleam in Prince's as he took in her dad's slurred words and wobbly posture. Whatever game they were playing tonight, it wasn't going well.

Belle painted on a hostess smile and asked, "Was there something you needed, Mr. Prince?"

"I just needed another beer." Without giving her a chance to even turn and open the fridge, he stepped closer, too close, effectively pinning her between himself and the counter. She tried not to flinch away, the smell of his strong cologne filling her nose and making her want to gag. His eyes bore into hers, only occasionally flicking away to watch what his hand was doing in the fridge. Once he had his beer, Prince stepped back, and Belle felt like she could breathe again. "And it's Gary to you, babe." He tugged one of her curls gently, and finally left, cracking his beer and tossing the cap casually over his shoulder, where it landed with a clink on the floor.

"Papa, what the hell was that?"

"He's just one of my gambling buddies, Belley. You have nothing to worry about." Moe reassured, reaching out to hug her. Belle stepped out of his grip, placing gentle hands on his shoulders. He finally looked at her, and she didn't like what she saw. For one moment, she saw some clarity return, and she risked a single question.

"Papa, what's happening?" Belle asked. A clatter from the next room over distracted them, and when she looked back to her Papa, the father was gone and in his place was the careless gambler again. "Papa, please."

"I'm losing right now. Don't worry dove, I'll win the next round, and then I'll be able to give you anything. I know it's been difficult for you since your mom died, but I promise I'll make it better once I win."

"But Papa –"

"Moe, bring some beers out, would you?" She heard Gary call from the living room. "Let's get the next round started."

"Don't you worry, Belley. I'll win this one." Moe sidestepped her and grabbed two six-packs, shoving one unceremoniously into her arms. "Now help me with these beers, dove." He pressed a sloppy kiss onto her forehead, and she sighed. Sometimes, her father would get lucky and win a couple hundred bucks, and Belle could eat something that didn't come from a can or get thrown in the microwave. He had once won a thousand dollars and had surprised her with a brand new bookshelf.

Inevitably, the pain of their mother's passing would get to him again, and their money would begin to dwindle as more and more alcohol made its way into the house. Desperate, Moe would then start to gamble again; promising her each time that once he won, he would stop. Belle had stopped hoping for him to quit on his own, or even quit with help, and did what she could to safeguard them both against eviction, making any kind of independence merely a pipe dream.

They reentered the living room, and Moe smiled largely at the group of men circled around the table. "Boys, you know my Belle." He introduced her. Belle nodded politely, passing beers to those who wanted one. As she was passing Gary to hand a bottle to Killian Jones – who made her more than uncomfortable with his staring at her breasts, his tongue peeking out and touching his bottom lip – one of his hands snapped out and wrapped casually around her waist.

"Are you going to give one of those to me, sunshine?" Gary slurred. Belle nearly snapped and told him exactly where she would be giving him one of the beers, but one look at her father's desperate face had her think better of it. Belle reluctantly cracked a beer and set it on the table in front of him.

"Thanks, babe." Gary slapped her on the ass, and raucous, discordant laughter rose up all around the table, threatening to pull her in and drown her in a rush of bad cologne and sour beer. Moe sent her off with a wave of his hand, and she tried not to look like she was running away as she fled up the stairs to her books and some peace.

When she woke the next morning, she could smell something cooking on the stove. _Odd_. Her father usually didn't get out of bed until noon or one, especially when he's had 'friends' over the night before. A sleepy glance at her alarm clock told her it was only around nine in the morning. He shouldn't be up yet.

She stumbled down the stairs, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Belle froze in the doorway when she saw Gary standing at the stove, picking through her bag from Granny and tossing whatever could be fried onto a pan. "Hey there, babe." He said when he noticed her in the doorway, looking barely worse for wear for a man who had drank heavily the night before. He ogled her breasts, concealed only by the thin tank top she wore, and Belle tugged the neck of it higher uncomfortably. "Sit down, I made breakfast."

This sudden character change was throwing her for a loop, and if asked, she would blame that for the words that spilled out of her mouth next. "What are you still doing here?" Belle grumbled, and all the sudden, she was on the floor, her cheek burning and her eyes watering. Gary loomed above her, fists clenched and Belle felt a rush of fear go through her.

"Now, I go through all this work to make us all breakfast, and I get you bitching at me. That's no way to repay my kindness." Gary tutted, and Belle didn't like how he said the word 'us'. 'Us' implied family; 'us' brought hazy memories of early mornings and her mother laughing as her father attempted to flip pancakes and got them stuck to the ceiling. There was no 'us' in this situation, there was only Gary and Belle and her father. "Your father was much too drunk last night, I helped him upstairs after everyone had left, and being that I was much too sloshed to drive home, I slept on the couch."

He offered her a hand up, and she took it hesitantly. "Thank you." Belle said, and she hated herself for how small she sounded. How weak. "And I'm sorry, I was just surprised, that's all." Gary smiled, a wide, crooked thing that would have almost made him handsome were it not for the gleam in his eyes.

"Hey, no harm, no foul, right?" Gary laughed, and Belle forced herself to laugh along with him. His face spoke of charm and ease, but his hand was still clenched around the panhandle like Arthur clutching Excalibur. One misstep, one poorly chosen word, and he would use it just as Arthur did his sword. The tension in the room was lifted as she heard her father clomping down the stairs, groaning and cursing, obviously not shaking off his hangover as well as Gary had.

"Gary?" Moe slurred, and Belle automatically reached for the ibuprofen and a bottle of water. Before she could reach it, Gary had it out, pouring two into Moe's hand and set a bottle of water before the shaking man. "What are you doing here?" Moe asked.

"It's funny, Belle just asked me the same thing." Gary laughed, but Belle couldn't find in herself to do the same, the sting on her cheek still too fresh to joke about. She simply turned, watching the food cook and making sure it didn't burn. "We were both too drunk, Moe. I couldn't drive, so I hope you don't mind if I slept on the couch."

"No, not at all. I'm just not used to seeing anyone but Belle here in the mornings." Moe grunted. "No inconvenience at all for such good friends, right Belley?" There was something in his voice she couldn't understand, a kind of sadness that hadn't been there last night.

"No, Papa." Belle answered. "We're happy to have you here, Gary." The lie burned as it whooshed past her lips, and she hoped he didn't notice the clipped tone or the anger flaring in her eyes. A man who took what was probably the last of Papa's money away, and she was expected to just accommodate him in her own home? "Would you mind getting the plates?" Belle asked; if Gary wanted to be a part of 'us', she would make him a part of the preparations as well.

Gary stood next to her, making as to lean over and inspect what she was cooking. His hand slipped under her tank top and squeezed her waist painfully, and he hissed in her ear, "You don't order me around, _dove_." Belle nodded, and his nails dug into her skin, "Now laugh as if I said something really funny." Belle forced a near-hysterical laugh out of her mouth, and to her relief, the nails receded and the pressure decreased. Gary pressed a dry kiss to her cheek, and she tried not to flinch away.

"Moe, how did you raise such a lovely daughter?" Gary asked, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he left and leaned on the counter across from Moe, the posture more closely resembling a wolf on the hunt than a casual conversation between friends. "Shall we?" Gary gestured to the table, and Belle dished out food as Moe and Gary debated local politics. The scene was too familial, and she didn't like it, not at all. Belle picked at her food with her fork, her stomach in too much of a knot to even try to eat.

"Belley?" She was pulled out of her distraction by her father's shaking voice. Belle glanced up and her jaw nearly dropped to the floor. Gary was on one knee before her, holding out a small golden ring that looked suspiciously like one from her mother's jewelry box.

"Belle French, will you marry me?" Gary asked.

"Papa, will you excuse us, please?" Belle said, her voice almost shaking as a look of rage crossed Gary's face at being ignored. Moe needed no more opportunity than that, bolting out of the room with an expression close to shame. "Gary, I'm sorry, but I barely know you. It would take quite some time before I was comfortable accepting a proposal." She prepared herself for the blow, but she was surprised when he only laughed.

"Oh, Belle. You have to marry me; asking was only a formality." Gary gloated. She tore at her napkin, and had a sudden flash of gratitude that she had not eaten anything; her stomach surely would have rejected it.

"I don't understand." Belle said, and she could hear echoes of her younger self in that sentence. 'I don't understand' when her father picked her up early from school and took her to her mother in the hospital. 'I don't understand' when she was twelve and a social worker asked her if she was being hurt. 'I don't understand' when she was fifteen and she had to bail her father out of jail for the first time.

"Your father has gambled away everything you own. The stakes last night were a little too high, and he lost. In a last-ditch attempt to win something back, he gambled your hand in marriage in exchange for the deed to the house." Gary crowed, looking far too pleased with himself for her tastes.

"That's not legally binding." Belle protested.

He wrapped his hands casually around her wrists, and the symbolism was not lost on her. "If you marry me, I will let your father keep this house, and support him as much as I am able. He's a good man, and after all, we would be family." Belle tried not to shudder with revulsion. "However, if you don't, you and your father would be out on the street in an hour, and I have people waiting to spread your shame all around town. No one would take you in."

Belle cried softly, horrified at either prospect, and he took her face in his hand, squeezing just a tad too tightly to be accidental. "Come now, dove, don't cry. I don't like to see you cry."

She would not see her Papa out on the streets. Granny would take her in as soon as look at her, but even she didn't hold any sympathy for Moe. The choice was all too clear. "I will marry you." Belle forced a smile onto her face, and as Gary twirled her in his arms, she wondered what kind of hell she had just thrown herself into.


	2. Chapter 2

Gary, thankfully, took his leave soon after his proposal, citing rent to collect and preparations for their wedding to make. Before he left, he told her he would be picking her up for dinner around seven, and to 'dress like his fiancée should'. With a sloppy kiss to her cheek and a squeeze to her ass, Gary walked out the door, and Belle sank into a dining room chair.

 _This can't be happening. This can't be happening_. She was getting married. To a man she had only met last night. Belle buried her hands in her hands trying to come to terms with the turn her life had taken. She couldn't deny that she had dreamed of being married, and had always wanted children of her own. She had thought she would have a family with someone who she loved and respected and loved and respected her in return, but now she couldn't have that. Her father traded her away like cattle to a man who had no qualms with threatening her to get her to marry him.

A cough sounded from the door, and Belle looked up to see her father hovering hesitantly in the doorway, obviously torn between reaching out to comfort and leaving her to her anger. "Belle…" Moe started, only barely able to meet her eyes, shame written on every line on his face.

"No! Papa, how could you do this to me?" Belle interrupted angrily. Now that Gary had left, her trepidation was quickly making way to hurt and fury. Her own _father_ had gambled her away.

"Gary will be able to provide for you, Belley." Moe tried to soothe her. "He'll be able to give you all the things I never could."

"It doesn't matter what he could give me. My life wasn't yours to gamble away!" Belle argued hotly, moving away as he reached for her shoulder.

"Belle, I just wanted to give you a better life." Moe sank into her chair, his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands. "Maybe I can work something out with Gary, maybe he'll accept something else."

"Papa, we have nothing. You've gambled everything away. Hell, the only reason Gary's allowing you to stay in the house is because I'm marrying him. There's nothing you can do."

"I'm sorry, dove." Moe whispered, and Belle shook her head.

"I can't do this right now, I have to go talk to Ruby, see if she has a dress I can wear tonight." Belle ran upstairs and quickly changed. As she walked back down the stairs, she shrugged on her coat and snatched her tip money from the book on the end table. She was just walking out the door when she heard the telltale sound of a beer cracking open. Disgusted, Belle slammed the door behind her, and began walking down the street, knowing that she would find Papa ten sheets to the wind when she came back, trying to drown his shame and pain in cheap beer.

Belle marched down the street, fury speeding her stride. She wanted to understand how her father could do this to her, but she already knew. He was an addict. No matter what she did, no matter how many safeguards she put up in order to give them both some semblance of a life, it would never be enough. He would always fall back into the same pattern. Shamefully, she couldn't even find it in herself to want to help him, yet she was still walking down the street, trying to find a dress to go out with Gary in, just so Papa could have a warm place to sleep every night.

Belle was so incensed that she didn't notice someone leaving the pawnshop until she sent them both crashing to the ground. Her hands and knees stung as she hit the pavement, and the man she crashed into snapped, "Why don't you watch where you're going, dearie!"

"I'm so sorry, sir. Here." Belle clambered to her feet, ignoring her stinging hands and bruised knees, and offered the man a hand up. He disregarded her offer in favor of snatching a cane from where it had fallen, and climbing to his feet himself. The man was dressed neatly, his dark suit neatly pressed and clinging to him in just the right places. His hair, longer than most men wore it and tinged with hints of grey, flipped back as he shook his head, revealing a worn face and intense brown eyes. "I'm sorry." Belle stammered, brushing the dirt off the palms of her hands.

"You've mentioned that already, dearie." He snapped, but his tone changed once he actually looked at her. "…It's quite alright, I'm no worse for wear." He wouldn't stop staring, and it was beginning to make her a little uncomfortable. It wasn't even that he kept looking at her, but it was the way he was looking at her. Belle was so used to seeing barely-controlled lust in the eyes of her father's gambling buddies, and boredom from the people she served at the diner. This man was looking at her like she was someone, not just an object with breasts or plates of food.

He finally looked away, and an uncomfortable grin crossed his face. "But it appears you are." He pointed down to her knee, and Belle saw a few patches of blood staining her previously clean leggings.

"Oh, shoot." Belle said, poking hesitantly at the patches, hoping they were dry and she just hadn't seen them. To her dismay, her fingertip came back wet, and she resigned herself to having to use Granny's bathroom to clean it off as best she could. With only fifty dollars to her name, she couldn't afford to buy a new pair and something to wear tonight. She had just started to walk away when his voice stopped her.

"Wait, you can…come in and clean your knee, I have some first aid supplies." When she nodded, the man turned and unlocked the pawnshop door, and Belle remembered with a blush how much she had wanted to go inside last night. "Ladies first." Belle limped inside, the pain in her knee fading as she looked around. There were so many interesting things in here; she could easily spend hours examining the items and marveling at the intricate little details. She had almost forgotten that the man was right behind her when he cleared his throat pointedly.

"So, you're Mr. Gold?" She addressed him.

"Yes I am, dearie, but just Gold is fine." Gold led her into the backroom and guided her to sit down on the small bed. This room was much less organized than the front was, and Belle looked around curiously. She could see a watch underneath a magnifying glass lying on the desk, and a couple of old books with their bindings broken lying in a pile by the window.

Gold dragged a stool over and propped her foot up on his knee, easing her boot off and rolling up her legging slowly. "You don't have to do that. After all, I was the one who crashed into you." Belle protested, trying to lift her foot off his knee, only to let out a hiss of pain as her knee resisted the sudden movement.

Gold stopped her with a hand on her shin. "Let me. You won't be able to get it yourself, and I've had plenty of experience cleaning scrapes." With a huff of indignance, she settled her foot back on his knee.

"Thank you." She offered, and immediately changed the subject. "Your shop is…this place, it's incredible." Belle stammered, cursing herself on the inside for sounding like an idiot. Gold, to her surprise, blushed. She could see the tips of his ears turning red. She winced as the antiseptic stung the scrape, and waited for him to reply.

"It's simply a cover. There's a dog-fighting ring underneath us." Horror rippled through her, and she tried to tug her foot off his leg. In the process, she landed a pretty hard kick to his nose, and he groaned. With blood beginning to ooze down his face, Gold started to laugh. "It was just a quip, dearie."

"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry." Belle grabbed one of the towels he had brought to clean up her knee and pressed it his nose, absolutely mortified. He nudged her hand away, tipping his head back and pressing down.

"It's just my nose, dearie, and trust me, it's seen worse." Gold chuckled. The towel came away barely soaked, and though the edge of his nostril was still tinged red with blood, the bleeding had stopped. "You didn't actually kick me that hard."

Belle buried her face in her hands, not sure if she should laugh or be mortified. "I'm causing you nothing but trouble." Her knee no longer hurt that badly now that there was a bandage wrapped around it, and she stood up to leave. "Thank you, and I'm sorry about everything."

"It's no matter. Be on your way." Gold had moved back to the table, his attention returned to fixing the watch, if she could hazard a guess. Out of things to say, and obviously dismissed, Belle walked out, sparing a longing glance to the books before she did.

She needed to see Ruby anyway.

Belle walked into the diner, thankful for once that it was nearly empty. Normally, that would mean her job could be at risk, but she guessed that she really wouldn't have to worry about money anymore. _I just have to worry about being hit. Wonderful._ She cursed her father yet again for getting her into this situation.

Ruby was standing at the counter, chewing on the edge of her nail and flipping through a magazine. "Hey, Belle!" She said when Belle walked. "What are you doing here? Today's your day off."

"It's complicated. Do you have a dress I can borrow?" Belle asked, trying not to feel ashamed that she couldn't afford a nice dress of her own. Ruby already knew about Moe anyway, she would understand.

"Sure, just let me…" Ruby turned to the kitchen, "Hey, Granny, Belle's here! Do you mind if I take her upstairs for a bit?" She yelled.

"Fine, just don't dawdle." Granny snapped back. "Hello, Belle."

"Hi, Granny." Belle barely had the words out before Ruby was pulling her up the stairs and into her bedroom. Ruby tore through her closet haphazardly, reds and blacks and a whole lot of other colors flying through the air. Belle laughed as a deep purple sweater landed on her face. "Ruby, slow down, you won't be able to find anything tearing through your closet like that."

"I know it is in here somewhe…Found it!" Ruby crowed, pulling out a one-shouldered, ice blue dress that looked like it would come close to fitting her. On one hand, Ruby was quite a bit taller than her, so it might too long on her. However, Ruby preferred short dresses, so it might hit at mid-thigh, or even down to her knee. "Here, try it on."

Belle pulled her shirt over her head, discretely sniffing to make sure she didn't smell too bad.

"Belle, what are those?" Ruby asked, and pointed to her stomach when Belle gave her a quizzical look. Belle looked down to see four perfectly round bruises on her waist, glaringly obvious against her pale skin. Gary had gripped her so hard he had bruised her. Ruby raised one eyebrow, waiting for her answer.

"I really don't know, Rubes." Belle lied, focusing on getting her skirt and leggings off so Ruby might not see the guilt written all over her face. "Maybe I just hit something."

Belle tugged the dress over her head and let it settle across her body. The chest was a little too loose - Ruby had bigger breasts than she did – but the length was good. Belle took a peek in Ruby's full-length mirror and marveled. The color did wonders for her, emphasizing the blue in her eyes and the gold highlights in her hair.

"That looks really nice on you!" Ruby enthused, pulling the fabric at the back tighter. "It would be really easy to tailor too, you know Mr. Gold? Down in that creepy pawnshop?"

"Yea, what about him?"

"He does some tailoring too, I bet you could pay him to fix it for you." Belle blushed at the thought of running into him again, figuratively or literally, and shook her head. "Well, I haven't worn this dress for years anyway, so you can keep it if you want it."

"I should be able to fix it myself, and thank you for letting me have it." Years of thrift-store clothing had forced her to become rather skilled at mending her own things; it would simply be a matter of taking in the seam, which she could do in an hour or so. Belle quickly got changed and folded the dress, clutching it close to her stomach. She had just turned to leave when Ruby grabbed her wrist, spun her around, and pushed her back down to the bed.

"Oh no, you are not leaving until you tell me why you are wearing a ring on your finger." Ruby was nearly bouncing up and down with excitement, having unearthed the juiciest piece of gossip she had likely ever heard. Belle wasn't stupid; she had heard the rumors about her. Belle knew people thought she was frigid, thought she was unlikely to ever marry anyone. There were even some bets at The Rabbit Hole as to when she would be seen with a guy.

Belle sighed. "I'm engaged." She pasted on a huge smile, trying to appear like the besotted bride-to-be she was supposed to be, not a girl traded away into the arms of a man she didn't even want to be around.

Nothing slipped past Ruby though; quite frankly, Belle was surprised she had managed to escape questioning about the bruises. "You're not happy about it." Ruby guessed, and for once, Belle wished she wasn't quite so hard to fool.

"Please don't say anything to anyone about this, Ruby." Belle pleaded. "If people ask, just tell them I'm madly in love, or tell them to mind their own business. Just…please?" Belle pleaded. Ruby plopped down on the bed next to her and sighing, pressing a hand to her face.

"Alright, I won't say anything." Belle hugged her, grateful beyond words. "Will you at least tell me what I'm not supposed to be telling people?" Belle sighed and told Ruby the whole story- the gambling, the bet, the assault, everything. To her embarrassment, she burst into tears halfway through, so petrified of going through with this.

"Belle, you can't do this, he's a jerk." Ruby tried to reason with her. "Gary's going to hurt you; he's already hurt you!" Ruby pressed slightly on one of the bruises, and Belle jumped away with a flinch. "I don't care if he's our landlord, I'm going to give that ass a piece of my mind!"

"No, don't. You'll just make him angry. I have to marry him; you know how power Gary has in this town. Papa won't have a home if I don't." Belle said. Ruby bit her lip. "I'll figure something out, just…don't tell anyone, not a soul, ok?"

"Alright, but be careful, and you know you can tell me anything, right?" Ruby said, and Belle nodded, and took a look at the clock. 1 pm.

"I should go, Rubes. I still have to get ready for tonight. I have a date, which will surely shock the people of Storybrooke." Belle tried to smile, and Ruby gave an equally hesitant smile back. They had both enjoyed giggling about the crazy gossip that surfaced in the town, but neither of them had the emotional stamina to laugh at it now.

After a tearful good-bye, Belle returned home, blatantly ignoring her father snoring away on the couch with open beer bottles scattered everywhere. _Typical._ She took a hot shower, trying to calm herself and wash all traces of the tears and stress off her face. _I don't like to see you cry, dove_ echoed through her mind, and Belle tried to shake it off. They could have a good time tonight, and maybe if she actually believed it, it would happen.


	3. Chapter 3

Belle had just finished putting her up her hair when the doorbell rang. With a curse, she glanced at the clock. _7:00_. Gary was here, and irritatingly punctual. She glanced in the mirror. The back didn't look pretty, but she could cover the stitching with a blazer. The dress fit in the chest, which was all that would matter to Gary anyway. She just couldn't take her jacket off.

The doorbell rang again as she was walking down the stairs, and she could almost feel Gary's impatience through the door. Belle opened the door to see Gary in slacks and a button-up blue shirt, and it did not escape her notice that they matched. With a cocky grin, he held a bouquet of roses out to her. She tried to put a delighted smile on her face as she took them, and she must have succeeded. He seemed pleased with himself, at least.

"Would you like to come in?" Belle asked. When Gary's eyes darkened slightly and she realized what he was thinking, she rushed to correct herself. "Just while I put these in a vase."

"I can wait out here. It shouldn't take long, right?" Gary said, tugging affectionately on one of the loose curls she had left hanging around her face.

"Right." Belle said. She tugged her curl out of his hand and turned to find a vase. His cologne was choking her, and she took the time she spent finding and filling a vase to catch a clean breath. Papa was leaning on the counter, and Belle ignored him angrily.

"Are you off to be his whore?" He snapped. She could smell the alcohol on him. _So much for catching a clean breath_.

It was already hard enough that she was doing this for him, but he wasn't even grateful for it. That would always hurt. "I'll be back later, Papa." Belle said softly, trying to keep the anger and disappointment out of her voice. She saw him nod. Out of things to say, Belle left him moping, sure she would find him in the same position when she returned.

Belle closed the door behind her and took Gary's arm. "You look beautiful tonight, dove." Gary said as they walked, her hand tucked into his elbow. She felt like a rag doll as he pulled her around, towards wherever they were going.

"Thank you." Belle said, ducking her head to feign shy gratitude so he wouldn't see the displeasure on her face. "Where are we going tonight?" She asked curiously. She barely recognized the part of town they were in, but as they turned the corner, the buildings began to get more and more familiar until she spotted a familiar demon at the end of the road. She had come to drag her father home from here more often than she cared to remember, and she had hoped when her father had been banned that she would never see it again.

"The Rabbit Hole. You don't mind a bar, do you, babe?" Gary asked, his tone brooking no argument.

Belle smiled and said, "Of course not." She could see people watching her, and she could already hear the rumors that would surely be circulating around town tomorrow. Rumors about how she was following in her drunken father's footsteps and drowning her sorrow in alcohol, or perhaps that dowdy Belle French had been seen with a handsome man; either would send people's tongues wagging. The people lingering outside the door were already staring at her in shock, and she ducked her head to hide her blush.

Once they stepped through the doors, Gary's attention instantly became riveted to the pool tables, some of his friends already gathered around and shooting pool. As a perfunctory measure, he bought them both drinks (a glass of red wine for her and a beer for him) before his attention became absorbed by the game. He would grin boyishly at her whenever he sunk a ball, but otherwise he paid her no attention. Belle wished she had brought a book.

She slowly became aware that someone else's attention was completely on her. Keith Nottingham was sitting at the bar, downing drink after drink, his eyes crawling up her legs and across her chest. She shivered and pulled her jacket tighter around her. He made her skin crawl, and with a glance at the pool table, she could see Gary had noticed Keith as well.

Gary cheered as he won his round of pool, and Belle downed her glass of wine before embracing him. Everyone was expecting her to be the devoted fiancée, and she would play the part. "Congratulations, babe." Belle praised, and he planted a sloppy kiss on her mouth as Hook set up another round.

Gary pressed a twenty into her hand, and said, "Do me a favor, dove, and go get us more drinks, alright?" Belle nodded and walked across to the bar. As she was ordering (another beer for Gary and Hook, and a glass of wine for her), Keith leaned across the bar, slurring, "Well, aren't you pretty."

Belle ignored him, and she noticed Gary watching Keith angrily as he leaned closer. Finally, the bartender sat the drinks in front of her, and she rushed to get away from Keith's leering stare. As she brought the drinks back, Gary said, "I want you to stay close, just until he leaves. I don't like how he looks at you."

"Alright, babe." For once, Belle found herself actually agreeing with Gary. She watched the round of pool from a small table. Gary lost, and she cooed in sympathy. The bass line of whatever song that was playing pounded through her skull, and she wished they could leave. With a sigh of relief, she realized that Keith had left, and she walked up to Gary, saying, "I'm going outside to get some air quick, alright?"

"Just be quick, dove. I'm gonna win this one, and then we can go somewhere to eat." Gary said.

Belle walked out, the smell of tobacco and alcohol clouding her head. She leaned against the side of the building, trying to catch her breath. The Rabbit Hole was too loud, too drunken, too…much. She shuddered as she realized the rest of her life would most likely be like this.

"Hey there, babe."

Belle jumped. Keith was strutting towards her, his confident stride belied by the stumble to the left or right every few steps. She took a small step back – she could smell his noxious cologne and the cheap whiskey on his breath. Keith smiled as he leaned towards her, and she recoiled, hitting her back against the wall.

"What's a pretty lady like you doing out here all alone?" Keith slurred.

"Just getting some air before I go back to my fiancé." Belle replied. Gary may not have been paying much attention, but he was much, much better than Keith. Belle glared at him as he leaned closer, running his fingertips down the side of her face.

"Well, he doesn't seem like he pays you much attention, and that's a damn waste." Keith grinned cockily. His fingers traveled down her neck to run along her waist before gripping her hip. "Besides, what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right doll?"

"Let me go!" Belle shouted, shoving Keith back until he landed in the dirt.

"You bitch!" Keith snapped, and Belle only made it a few steps before his fingers latched onto the back of her jacket and she fell in the dirt. Belle tried to scream, but his sweaty mouth clamped onto hers before she could. He climbed on top of her, lifting her dress as he went. Belle closed her eyes as he bit into the side of her neck, pinning her hands above her head with his free hand as he did. "You'll enjoy this a lot more if you stop struggling, doll." he mumbled against her skin.

Belle was so terrified. His weight kept her pinned to the ground, and she prayed for something, anything, to stop what was surely going to happen.

Keith's fingers had just wandered to the top of her thigh when his weight was yanked off her, and she breathed a harsh sigh of relief. Gary had Keith pinned against the wall. Belle stood up slowly, barely listening to Gary yelling. Her wrists were sore from where Keith's meaty hand had gripped them, and she rubbed, wincing.

Gary yelled, "If you ever come near my fiancée again, I will hit you so hard that you won't be able to remember ever having lived." Keith was shaking underneath Gary's hands, and a wet spot appeared on his jeans. Belle daringly placed a hand on his quivering shoulder, and Gary turned to regard her, anger turning his face into something ugly.

"Babe, I'm alright. I think he's gotten the message." At her words, Gary dropped him, and Keith limped away, off to lick his wounds. Belle stepped away, shivering as a cold breeze whipped past. Gary faced away from her, fists clenched, shaking with anger. She brushed at the dirt on her dress – thank the gods Ruby had let her keep it.

She was so intent on getting the specks of dirt off her jacket that she didn't notice Gary's hand flying out until it was too late. He backhanded her across the face, and she hit the wall with a smack. Belle crumpled to the ground, holding her throbbing cheek and trying not to cry. He didn't like to see her cry.

"I never expected you to love me, dove." Gary said, his expression murderous. He grabbed her by her arm, the grip so tight her arm shook. "But I do expect you to be faithful to me."

"Please, Gary, I didn't…I only came out for air, I promise you." Belle tried to calm him down. He landed a strong kick to her stomach, and she coughed as she tried to catch her breath.

"You're a lying whore, I saw him eyeing you!" Gary yelled. He pulled her to her feet, his grip around her arm only getting tighter. "I should have known. You'll give your body to any bar trash, won't you? I would have been better off making you my whore instead of my wife. At least then I'd get some money out of you." He smacked her across the face, and she felt blood running out of her nose to drip onto her dress, forever staining the fabric.

"What's going on here?" A voice demanded. Mr. Gold stood behind Gary, his cane planted between his feet.

"Nothing that concerns you, old man." Gary said, and Belle whined lowly as he clenched her arm tighter. The bone felt like it would crack any second. Mr. Gold looked past him, his eyes fixing upon her and his whole demeanor suddenly became enraged.

"Miss French?" Gold said sharply, and she could hear the barely-concealed rage in every word. The cane had never looked more like a weapon than it did in that moment.

"This is between me and my fiancée, so move along." Gary snapped, finally let go of her so he could face Gold instead. Belle stepped back, massaging her arm tenderly. Her whole arm hurt as blood suddenly rushed back to it. Gold laughed, a humorless thing that was sure to inflame Gary's temper more than it already was.

"I don't believe I was talking to you, dearie." Gold said. "You've had your say. Miss French, are you alright?" Gold asked, and she found herself afraid to answer. Gary was watching her with a stony expression, and Mr. Gold watched her with anger and barely-concealed worry. Telling the truth would only make Gary angrier, and then what would happen when Gold left? Belle nodded weakly, and the self-satisfied grin that crossed Gary's face nearly made her sick.

Gold laughed again, and said, "Somehow, I don't think that's true."

Gary snapped, "Isn't it time you moved on? As I said, this is between my fiancée and I, so mind your own business."

Gold's cane flew up and smacked Gary across the face, knocking him into the wall. Gold quickly stepped in between her and Gary, shielding her physically. Gary cursed and tried to shove Gold, but the cane flew up and smacked him solidly between the legs, and Gary let out a squeak.

"This isn't over, dove." Gary pointed at her before slinking away, back into the bar. Gold turned and regarded her with a wary gaze, before offering her his handkerchief.

"For your nose." He said when she gave him a confused look.

"Ah." Belle dabbed gingerly at her nose, wincing as she made direct contact.

"Come on, he could come out any minute. It's best to be away from here." Gold wrapped a warm hand around her shoulder, and gently led her away from the bar towards who-knew-where.


	4. Chapter 4

Belle shook as Gold led her down the street towards his shop. It was cold out, and she tried to quell her shivers by pulling her jacket tighter around her, her bruised stomach protesting the motion. She pressed the handkerchief closer to her face, feeling moisture bloom under her fingertips. She dreaded having to replace it- the fine fabric between the fingers couldn't be cheap. A cool breeze blew past them, and Belle shook. Gold's hand on her back was the only warmth she could feel.

"Try not to bleed all over my shop, Miss French. Blood brings down the value of my stock." Gold said as he ushered her in ahead of him, flicking on the overhead light as the door closed. Belle giggled, and he gave her an odd look. "I think you're the only one who has ever found that funny."

"Oh, do you have a lot of bleeding people in your shop then?" Belle said smartly, and surprisingly, Gold chuckled. His laugh made her feel warm inside, and she wanted to make him laugh again. She pulled her arm tighter around her, trying to hide the shivers that kept shuddering through her despite the heat blasting in the building.

"Not often, no." Gold said, leading her into the back room and onto the cot. Belle pressed a hand to her head, a headache quickly making itself known behind her eyes. She felt a blanket wrap around her shoulders.

"Here, Miss French, this will warm you up." Gold pressed a cool glass tumbler into her hand, filled about halfway with a warm golden liquid. The smell of whiskey overwhelmed her, and Gold's shop vanished from around her. Suddenly, she was pinned to the ground, Keith's whiskey breath filling her mouth and threatening to choke her, fear the only emotion she could comprehend. Before she could even think, she threw up the meager contents of her stomach, tears leaking out of her eyes as both her stomach and head objected.

"It's okay, get it all out." Gold's voice broke through her fog, and she realized there was a trashcan under her mouth.

"I'm sorry." Belle said. Tears were still pouring, and she hiccupped. Gold set the trashcan back down and handed her a bottle of water. She tried not to guzzle it down; she knew just as well as he did that her stomach might reject it if she drank too fast.

"Slow sips, that's the way." He soothed. "It's no trouble, dearest. I have nothing else to do."

"Why do you care about me? I cause you nothing but trouble." Belle said. Her stomach hurt so much; she could almost imagine the bruise blooming across her torso. Her head throbbed, and she clenched her eyes shut. Gold nudged her arm, and she looked up to see him holding out two Advil. With a look at her face, he added a third for good measure. "Thank you." Belle reached out and quickly took them.

"You need that bump taken care of." Gold said, pulling a stool in front of her and pulling a box labeled 'First Aid' closer. Belle watched him warily as he coated a cotton cloth in antiseptic gel. Gold's fingers poked gingerly around the side of her head and his deep brown eyes watched her face closely for signs of pain. He poked a cut directly, and she winced. "There it is." His fingers traced the edge lightly, before parting her hair and pressing the cloth to her head.

She hissed as the liquid sank into the cut and stung harshly. She jerked away, and he placed his free hand on the other side of her head, forcing her to stay still. "It will be over in a second, just stay still." Gold murmured. Belle found herself getting uncomfortable with his scrutiny, and she kept trying not to look at him. She found herself getting very sleepy.

Gold tutted as her eyes drooped. "I think you may have a concussion." Belle groaned – she didn't have the time to get over a concussion. Once she would leave here, she would either be with Gary (which would only increase her risk of worsening it), at the diner, or with her father. None of those were conducive to rest. He pressed a second bottle of water into her hands, and she drank gratefully.

"Wanna sleep." Belle murmured, and his gaze shifted from her hair to her eyes, watching her carefully.

"No, no, stay awake." Gold tapped her nose gently, cursing under his breath when she winced. "Sorry, dearie, I forgot."

Belle smiled. "We match now." She tapped the edge of his nose, remembering with some embarrassment kicking him in the nose earlier in the day.

Gold chuckled. "I suppose we do."

Belle rubbed gingerly at her nose, and Gold pulled the cloth away from her head. "Here." He reached into a small freezer and pulled out a couple pieces of ice. He wrapped them into another cloth and pressed it gently to her nose. She shivered as the ice made contact. "I'm going to make tea; you need to warm up. Don't fall asleep."

Belle leaned against the wall, listening to Gold tap-tap-tapping around the back room, his halting steps only accompanied by the clink of porcelain. Her eyes drifted closed. Her head still hurt, but the throbbing was muted. The blissful darkness of sleep was pulling at her like tar, wanting to send her to a dream where she could have happiness and peace. A thump hit the covers next to her, and she jumped.

"Don't sleep." Gold scolded. "Not for right now." Belle looked to her side and saw one of the books sitting next to her. She reached for it, running her fingers over the soft cover and the edges of the yellowed pages.

"How did you know?" Belle said as she picked up the old book. Jane Eyre, the cover read, and she flipped it open, eager to devour the words. "I love to read."

"I've seen you over these past couple months, peeking in through the window and admiring the books." Gold admitted. Belle peeked up from the book. He was giving her this amused look, and she got the feeling he was enchanted by her interest. "You can borrow from me, if you'd like."

"Really?" Belle grinned, clutching the book between her fingers and pressing it to her chest. His eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled at her delight. She enjoyed seeing the little-boy smile on his face, and how proud he was that he had made her smile.

"Not many people in this town have the opportunity to read. I won't sell them." Gold said. "Feel free to borrow them for as long as you want."

"Why do you keep helping me?" Belle said, setting the book down by her side, her fingers stroking distractedly over the cover. She could feel the age of the tome – she wouldn't be surprised if it were first edition. Gold sat down across from her, setting a tray on top of the first aid kit. He took the abandoned ice pack from her lap, and pressed it to the side of her head. His face had taken on an uncomfortable look, and Belle placed a hand on his knee to bring his attention back. "I just…I don't understand why you care about me."

Gold set the ice back in the freezer and pressed a warm teacup into her hand, and she relished the warmth seeping into her hand and spreading slowly through her whole body. She pulled the blanket closer, wincing as the bruised muscles in her stomach shifted. She could tell he was stalling and wondered what could be so uncomfortable that he had trouble saying it. "I know what it's like to be in an abusive relationship."

"Really?"

Gold nodded. "My ex-wife. And now my son is just beginning to get out of an emotionally abusive relationship as well. I never wanted to see anyone else have to go through a bad relationship again."

"I don't want your pity." Belle said weakly. She was tired of being the subject of people's pity, only to have them gossip about her behind her back or ignore her once she rejected their 'help'. She wanted to be angry, but she was too numb.

"Nor will you have it." Gold replied. Belle sipped her tea, humming in contentment as it warmed her up. It really was good tea, and she tried to enjoy it as much as possible. "I only want to help, Miss French."

"You can call me Belle." She said, smiling weakly as he smiled and nodded. "And I don't know how you could help, Mr. Gold. It's hopeless."

"No, no, Belle, nothing's ever hopeless." Gold admonished. Her name in his smooth Scottish accent warmed her more than his tea ever could. Her name rolled off his tongue and lay vibrating in the air between them. "And it's Rumford; my name, I mean. Will you tell me what's going on, before you decide it's a hopeless situation?"

Belle took a deep breath, and immediately regretted it as the muscles in her stomach ached. She pressed a hand gingerly to her torso, and tried to ignore the way Gold's eyes followed the motion. "My father has a gambling problem." Belle began. "He gambled my hand away, and he lost to Gary."

"That's hardly legal." Gold commented.

"That's what I said, but Gary threatened to kick us both out of our house if I didn't marry him, and I will not see my father homeless."

"He's your landlord too?" Gold asked, and Belle nodded.

"Gary told me that he would allow my father to keep the house, and I agreed." Belle ducked her head as she felt tears running down her face. "There's nothing we can do; even if we managed to get out from under him, my father would just fall back into the same pattern. We would just end up back where we started. There's nothing you could do."

"That's not necessarily true." Gold said. Before Belle could ask, he got up and limped into the front of the shop, where she could hear him shuffling around and pulling drawers open. She took the opportunity to refill her cup with tea, and sipped at it as she waited, humming in pleasure as the honey flavor flooded her taste buds. She giggled when she heard a small thump and Gold cursing like mad, and found herself wishing her life could be like this. Hopefully without the beating and the first aid, but a life where she felt warm and safe and cared for, and could relish in the far-off sounds of a frustrated husband instead of wondering what kind of pain it would bring.

But a life like that could never be hers. She knew that, but Belle couldn't stop herself from wishing that one day, it could be hers. "Found it!" Gold cried from the front room.

"Found what, Rumford?" Belle asked, delighting in the way 'Rumford' rolled off her tongue. It was such an unusual name, but as he rounded the corner with a pen and a legal pad, she found it fit him surprisingly well.

"I have a deal to propose, but I want to write it down." Gold said, settling himself down in front of her and sipping at his tea. "A deal for you, and you can choose not to accept it."

"I'm sure anything you could propose would be better than my situation now." Belle remarked, a tinge of bitterness in her voice. Gold grimaced.

"That's probably true, but I'd rather give you the choice either way." Gold said, and she appreciated that even if the choice was obvious, he was still maintaining the illusion that it was a choice. She watched him write, fascinated by the curl of his fingers around the pen. His fingers were so long and elegant, and she wondered what it would be like to hold his hand.

"So, what's your deal?" Belle asked, leaning forward and watching him scribble across the paper, his handwriting remarkably neat given how fast he was writing.

"I'm not sure if you know this, but Mr. Prince and I both own most of the properties in town and we've both made good fortunes doing so. Prince owns most of the lower-income housing and a couple of the businesses, and I own the richer part of Storybrooke." Belle could vaguely remember walking through the nice estates on the edge of Storybrooke when she was younger, marveling at the nice houses and the well-kept lawns, and dreaming of what it would be like to live there. "However, I also own some smaller housing over top of empty businesses for a much more decent price."

Belle felt hope rising, buoying her up. This was too good to be true; it had to be too good to be true. Gold smiled as he saw the beginning to crawl onto her face. "What exactly are you proposing?"

"I will allow your father to live in one of my smaller properties and run a reasonable business there, if he chooses. I need someone to open and run the old library, so in exchange for your father's new living situation, you will work at the library for me." Gold finished scribbling and tore the pieces out, showing her the contract he had drafted. Belle's mouth gaped as she read over the words. "Now, keep in mind it won't be rent-free, but I will have your salary capped until your father can get on his feet."

"Rumford, this is so…I can't believe this." Belle cried, relieved to find tears of relief streaming down her face instead of tears of pain. He rubbed tenderly at her cheeks with his thumbs, clearing the tracks, and she gave him a watery smile. "Where do I sign?" Belle asked, looking around for a pen.

He shook his head. "I want you to take this home and discuss it with your father before you sign, if only because it affects him as well." Belle nodded, carefully folding the papers and putting them in her jacket pocket. His fingers carded through her hair, and she leaned into the touch. "How's your head?"

"It feels much better." The headache was nearly gone, and as his fingers ran over the lump on her head, she hardly felt a thing. "This is much too generous, I don't know how I could ever repay you."

"I'm just happy to see you safe, Belle." Gold murmured, and his eyes darted down to her lips before meeting her eyes again. He leaned closer to her, and rather than being repulsed, she found herself wishing he would bridge the last few inches. "Please, Belle, I'm a weak man. I shouldn't be wanting you." He murmured, so close she could almost feel his breath wafting across her lips.

"I think you're a very strong man, Rumford." Belle replied. Where did this want come from? It would be unfair of her to encourage his affections if she were only grateful. He leaned closer, testing the waters, and she gave up thinking. Gripping the back of his neck, she pulled him into a sweet and gentle kiss.


End file.
